The Billionaire's Pledge

by Rachel Bond

  “Oh, there’s not much to tell, especially compared with your life…”

  “Bullshit—everybody has a story. I want to know yours.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “Seriously!” And then he started throwing questions at her fast and furiously while he washed carrots, broccoli, snow peas, and cabbage. “Where were you born? Do you have brothers and sisters? What do your parents do? How’d you end up in Hood River? What was high school like? When did you have your first kiss? How did you lose your virginity? When did you start your business? What’s your favorite book? Favorite movie? Shall I go on?”

  Savannah’s brain had gotten stuck on “How did you lose your virginity?” and when he stopped talking she simply stood there holding her glass of wine. She couldn’t see herself but she probably had a dimwitted-looking expression on her face. Images of Bobby Hammond swirled in her head. Freshman year of college. It hadn’t hurt or bled as much as she thought it was supposed to, and afterward he’d told her he really liked her but he thought they should see other people. He had climaxed quickly. She had barely enjoyed it at all.

  She stared blankly at the cutting board he’d just gotten out.

  “Savannah?”

  “Huh?”

  “I think I lost you there for a second.”

  She shook her head quickly to clear it. “Sorry, I’m fine. But—did you just ask me how I lost my virginity?”

  “Did I?” he asked with a smirk as he began chopping veggies with a large knife, moving as quickly as a chef on TV. “I was just spewing out questions left and right, whatever popped into my noggin…”

  His noggin?

  She said, “Come on, don’t deny it. Isn’t that a little inappropriate for a client to ask their vendor?” She wasn’t sure whether to be offended or flattered, but she felt a little bit of both.

  “Is that all you think this is about? Business? Clients and vendors and presentations and payments and all that?”

  “I don’t know…” She took another sip of wine. She was torn between feeling intensely attracted to him, and wanting to walk out the door.

  He stopped chopping and caught her with his blue eyes. “Savannah, this isn’t about business.” His voice was soft and intimate. He was only standing a few feet away. “I brought you here because I’m interested in you. Savannah LaMont. I want to find out what makes you tick. And yes—I do want to know how you lost your virginity. But not because I’m some kind of creepy pervert. Because that’s a part of you, just like everything else that’s happened in your life.” His words melted into her mind. They set her at ease. She sipped her wine.

  She felt the urge to reach out and touch him. What would he do? What would happen if she took two steps forward and leaned up and placed her lips against his? Would he kiss her back? And what if she touched his neck, his chest, his thighs? Would he push her away, or draw her close? It had been a long time since she’d made the first move on a man; not since college. She wondered if she could muster the courage to try it.

  He was talking again, and again she’d been lost in a daydream.

  “…at an unfair advantage, since you seem to know all about me already.”

  OK. He wants to get to know me?

  She took a deep breath and set her wine down on the counter. “I was born outside Ithaca. My mother was a stay-at-home mom and my dad was a teacher. Middle school. Science and math. I’ve got an older brother. We never had much money while I was growing up, but I wouldn’t say we were poor, either. I never felt like I was missing out on anything…” As she talked, she warmed up to telling her life story, and she found Zac to be a wonderful listener. Most of the time he said nothing, but she could tell he was paying close attention. She hated it when people constantly nodded and said “Yeah” every few seconds. But he didn’t do that. Every once in a while he’d ask an insightful question, but only when she paused. He never tried to redirect the conversation back to himself, which was another pet peeve of hers.

  Later in the dining room, partway through eating the veggie stir-fry he’d prepared—which tasted better than any Chinese food she’d ever had in a restaurant—she asked if she was boring him.

  “Not at all,” he said. “It’s fascinating. When I’m attracted to a woman, I like to know everything about her.”

  WHAT did you just say?! When you’re attracted to a woman?

  “Umm…” she managed.

  “What?” he asked, popping a piece of broccoli into his mouth and chewing with a satisfied look on his face. She was starting to catch onto his pattern: he would let little things drop and then kind of pretend he hadn’t. It seemed to be a game. She decided to gather up all her courage and play along.

  She tilted her head down slightly and gave him a sultry look. “So you’re attracted to me.”

  “Did I say that?” he asked, clearly amused.

  “In point of fact, you just did.”

  “I said when I’m attracted to a woman.”

  “Then you want to find out all about her. Like you did with me.”

  “Then it’s settled,” he said.

  “How so?” she asked.

  “If point A implies point B, and you’ve proven A, then you’ve proven B. I must be attracted to you. You just said so yourself.”

  “Then it’s settled.”

  He paused and leaned back in his chair a bit, looking her over. She got a funny feeling from his expression. There seemed to be something he wanted to say, but he wasn’t saying it.

  She decided to switch topics. It was his turn to do the talking. “So tell me about yourself. Something I don’t already know from all the articles. When did you lose your virginity?”

  “Savannah! That’s personal, you know.”

  She shrugged. “When a woman is attracted to a man…”

  He caught her meaning and smiled. “I was a freshman—high school, mind you—she was a senior and a cheerleader. Her parents were out of town one weekend and we did it in their bed.”

  “Her parents’ bed? Eww.”

  “What? It was hot!”

  Again he quieted down and looked pensive. She hoped he might open up with a little push. “Zac, what aren’t you telling me right now? You seem…I don’t know, down. Quiet. Was it something I said?”

  He stared at the table for a long time, occasionally glancing at Savannah and then back down.

  Finally, he said, “All right. I may as well tell you. I didn’t come to Hood River to do these real-estate deals. That’s all just a cover. I mean, I’m doing the deals and everything, but they’re not the reason I’m here. I’m here because I had to get away from that lifestyle. The women, the sex, the parties, the cars, the drugs, blah, blah, blah, yada, yada, yada. It was crazy. That wasn’t me. I dropped a few million on all that stuff, and I was getting more and more depressed by the day.”

  He took a sip of wine. “There were times I was fucking some woman—sorry—and the whole time just thinking, ‘What am I doing? Who is this person?’ Then the next night it would be somebody else. Sex lost its meaning for me. It started taking more and more kinky stuff to get me…you know. Pain. Bondage. Fetish stuff. Tying them up, being tied up. Younger women, two at a time, three, four, whatever. Eventually I had to take a pill just to do what I always used to be able to. I hated myself.”

  He paused again, this time watching Savannah’s reaction carefully. She made sure she looked interested and encouraging without betraying the fact that she was inwardly freaking out. His revelations were so intimate, it was almost terrifying. Apparently satisfied, he went on, “So I made a pledge. A year without—uh, away from San Francisco and temptation. Get back to my roots, my childhood. Find out who I was again. Be Zen. Do some outdoorsy stuff. Learn something new. So I did a lot of research and came up with Hood River. I’ve been clean and sober for two months now. I haven’t done any cocaine, nothing like that. Just a little wine now and then, as you noticed. But I also—never mind…” He trailed off, as if he’d been about to say s
omething and then changed his mind. She’d caught him doing it at least once before, too.

  He’s hiding something.

  “What? Why are you telling me all this?”

  “Because so far it’s been pretty easy. But then I met you, and…” He took a deep breath and sighed it out. “Oh, God. I don’t think I can do it.”

  “Do what?”

  He pushed his chair back violently and stood up.

  “Damn it! I want you, Savannah. I’ve wanted you from the moment I walked into your office. But—damn it, I’m sorry.”

  He grabbed his empty plate and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Savannah stunned and silent at the table.

  CHAPTER 9

  She had no idea what to do. Go to him? Stay here? Leave the house? There was absolutely something he wasn’t telling her. Something in his past, something he was afraid of. Had he committed some crime? He’d been so open, and then he’d just clammed up and left the room. She took stock of the situation. Zac was emotional, even volatile. He could go from happy and flirty to upset in a heartbeat. Was this the kind of man she wanted to spend time with?

  She was torn. She needed his money, his project, so desperately. But she wasn’t willing to start up a personal relationship just to get it. That would make her no better than the women he’d been running away from. A money-grubber, a gold-digger. She decided she would not intentionally jeopardize the project, but that if he wasn’t emotionally stable enough to spend time with, then she might have to end things before they had even begun.

  Her mind returned to what it might have been that he was hiding. She racked her brain thinking about all the articles she’d read about him. Had he gotten caught with drugs? Overdosed on heroin and ended up in the hospital? Had sex with a minor? No, too creepy. Raped a woman in a drugged-out fit of lust and rage? Ugh! Absolutely not, don’t even go there.

  Whatever it was he might be hiding, she was totally turned on by him. A warm, flowing sensation swirled around her core, down into her pelvis, between her legs. She wanted more of that sensation.

  She heard dishes banging around and water running. She could at least help him clean up.

  She took her plate into the kitchen. Zac stood at the sink, his back to her, scrubbing the wok. She set her plate on the counter and it made a little clink against the granite and the silverware rattled on top. He stopped scrubbing for a moment, took a breath, then started up again. She watched his back, his arms, his neck. Again she felt the urge to touch him. Her eyes strayed down to his butt, finding it muscular and round underneath perfectly tailored black wool.

  She fought against her fantasies, but they started anyway…She would come up slowly behind him and touch his shoulder gently with a few fingers. He would moan as she started working the tension from him. Her hands would move down his back, feeling the strength there, as her mouth got closer and closer to the bare skin of his neck. Then she would kiss him there as her hands reached his waist and continued going down. He would keep washing dishes, pretending he didn’t know what was happening, resisting her advances because of whatever was holding him back, fighting the urge to ravish her. But all the while he would be wanting it more than anything.

  Finally he would turn around and kiss her mouth, running his fingers through her hair and holding her close. They would kiss, long and passionately, until he grabbed her waist and lifted her onto the kitchen island, pushing his body between her legs.

  Forgetting his past, his worries, his crimes, whatever they were. Deciding that she was worth it. Pulling her panties down, carrying her into the bedroom…

  Her rational mind took over. It said: Savannah, you’ve never been sexually aggressive toward men. Are you really going to start now?

  She’d rarely made the first move, preferring not to take that huge risk of rejection. The one time she’d asked a boy out on a date, it was ninth grade. John Ericsson, freshman class president and all-around smart, funny, cute guy. With shaking hands, she’d called him on the phone and said maybe they could be more than friends. His words hurt so much, they’d stuck in her brain forever: “No, I don’t think so.”

  But something had changed in her since she’d seen Zac in the coffee shop that day. Each time she saw him, she wanted him more and more, and now she knew that he was attracted to her. She KNEW! He had told her! It was a fact. But still, every fiber of her being screamed out, No! Don’t do this! He’s going to reject you!

  She fought against all the negative self-talk that had built up in her life since her childhood. All the discouraging words from her father. All the times boys had looked past her when walking down the halls in middle school and high school. She fought against John Ericsson. She fought against Charles. She fought against her father. She fought against herself.

  Her hands shook. Her stomach twisted in knots. Her heart pounded like a drum, echoing in her ears.

  Fuck it. I can do this. He likes me. He wants me. Move, Savannah. Take a chance. Oh, God, I’m really going to do this.

  I’m really going to do this!

  I’m REALLY going to do this!

  I am doing this!

  Do it! Do it now!

  With a deep breath and a final silent prayer, she took a step forward toward Zac and reached up with her hand.

  CHAPTER 10

  Zac stood at the sink, washing the dishes. For some reason, he’d always enjoyed washing dishes. It relaxed him. But tonight, it wasn’t working. Tonight, he was so distracted by Savannah that no amount of dishes-washing was going to help matters.

  He’d told her of his debauchery. He’d confessed a few of his sins, hoping it would make him feel better. But here he was, feeling worse. Why was that? Usually telling secrets gave him a giddy sense of freedom and trust in another person, and he couldn’t figure out why that wasn’t happening tonight.

  That wasn’t true, he realized. Still lying to himself. He felt wrong because he hadn’t actually told her the full truth. He’d held back the part about his vow of chastity. He’d tried to tell her, but the words had caught in his throat. Out of fear, embarrassment. Shame. What would she think of him? Who makes a pledge not to have sex? Would she hate him, and run off? Especially after he’d flirted with her, led her on, made her think he was not just interested, but available.

  And if he didn’t tell her, maybe she’d still be interested and maybe they could…

  No! Cut it out! Don’t think like that. You made a promise to yourself. You wrote it down on paper and signed it in your own blood! Well, not blood, but you signed it with that expensive red fountain pen.

  He told himself to stop talking to himself in his head so much. If somebody could read his thoughts, doubtless they’d believe he was deranged.

  He scrubbed the cutting board, making sure to get all the garlic and ginger out of it so they wouldn’t affect the flavor of whatever he cut next time. To take his mind off Savannah and the pledge and how much he wanted what he could not have, he thought about the success he’d achieved so far in life. It was extraordinary, by any measure. To be worth three billion dollars by the age of 34 was almost unheard of, except by inheritance. He was one of the youngest self-made billionaires in the world.

  It was an incredibly unlikely story, and that was why the tech media had always been so quick to repeat it over and over as a rags-to-riches tale of legendary proportions. His upbringing had been harsh. An alcoholic father who nevertheless drove a long-haul rig for a living, away from home for days at a time while his diabetic mother struggled to raise all five children, four of them boys.

  The trailer they called home was always both filthy and untidy, and young Zachary spent most of his time outside, trying to stay as far away from his mother and her nasty, abusive ways as he possibly could. Somehow he managed to finagle a scholarship to a small college in eastern Oregon where he discovered computer science. It was the first thing he’d ever felt he was good at in his entire life, aside from throwing things and taking punches. A few years later he started building his l
ittle company, and a few years after that he sold it for billions.

  Yet here he was, still human, still unable to master his own feelings, or even to understand them. He tried to be logical. He’d come to Hood River to get away from a certain type of woman, and in so doing he’d made a pledge. But then he’d met a woman whose very existence challenged his ability to keep his vow. Challenged the whole concept of the vow itself.

  (Was Savannah still in the dining room? What did she think of him? He got the sense she was very turned on and shared his attraction. But maybe she just thought he was a weirdo. Maybe she saw through his facade of confidence and could tell he was merely a regular guy who happened to be rich. He focused on the dishes for now.)

  How important was the pledge, anyway? After all, it was merely a vow he’d made to himself. Only a couple of other people even knew about it, and he doubted if they cared. He could just drop the whole thing.

  No! What was the point of all this if he would instantly break his promise as soon as the first attractive woman came along?

  And Savannah was attractive. Very. He pictured her in his mind. Her hourglass shape, athlete’s build, pretty face. The way she looked down and brushed her hair back out of her eyes when she was shy or embarrassed. The way she talked and the joy she’d taken in telling stories about her life. Even the fact that she was so into technology—all of it was strongly arousing.

  He heard her set down her plate on the counter and it took all his willpower to resist turning around and kissing her right there in the kitchen. Kissing was allowed in the pledge. But he was sure of one thing: it would lead to touching, and touching would lead to sex.

  Would she understand him, and what he’d done to get where he was today? Would she understand how important this was to him? Would she even respect him, or would she just laugh at his silly pledge?

  His thoughts were coming hard and fast now, beyond his control. He imagined what she might look like naked. He wasn’t sure if this made him an asshole, but he suspected it was the way all guys thought when they were near a beautiful woman. He imagined the curve of her bare bottom as she might lie on his bed, on her stomach, legs spread and ready for him. He pictured her breasts, full and high, soft and smooth within his hands. Nipples tightening under his touch. Sucking them, using his tongue. He imagined lowering his head between her thighs, tasting the sweetness there, touching her most secret and sensitive places with delicate fingers…